Jory Stevens waved good night to the other officers at the precinct. Her partner, Gerry smiled and told her good night. It had been a long day for them with the constant call to crime areas all over the city. She nodded to some of the Blue shirts as she passed by them; knowing what they are. The two men tilted their hats and kept going. The three of them knew that they were living a lie. This city; this city knows the true nature of the people that inhabitant this vast plot of land. Jory is one of them. They call themselves Supernatural beings. They are apart of a third lineage of humans that are not well known. Werewolves, vampires, ghosts, you name it; it exists. But, lately, there have been more occurrences in which crime has taken control by the Supernaturals. Some have stooped so low to become apart of the crime wave controlling this fair city. There is a new drug going around that Jory and the Saint City Police have been trying to get rid of.

They call it the “Vampyr,” or “V” for short. Vampires take control of young human minds and give them the power of the Vampire. Vampires have denied such a claim, but Jory knows the truth of it all. The police have found some of the “farms” in which Vampires would kidnap various people and turn them into Vampires. The long and arduous process of changing, the blood begins to mutate. This is what’s selling on the markets. To schools, everywhere. It is the “happening” drug on the streets. So far, there hasn’t been talk about a “Werewolf” or any other type of blood pill going around the city.

Not only that, but there had been rumours of a new group forming…or a group that’s been formed for a very long time. They call themselves the “Red Justice.” So far, Jory could see nothing wrong with them. They haven’t hurt her or anyone else that she knows. She doesn’t know who’s apart of the Red Justice and she wants to know about them. However, the history books and the texts are lacking for such a group. They’ve kept themselves hidden, and for good reason.

Jory got into her car and headed back to her apartment were the rest of her pack was waiting. She opened the door to see the Alpha male pacing around the room with the Alpha female and the Beta male sitting on the couch. The Alpha stared at Jory as she closed the door. “We can’t stay here any longer,” Rollo, the Alpha stated. “We have to move out of the city right away.” “Wait…move out?” Astor asked. “We just got here. And Jory’s doing pretty well with the police force.” “Someone knows about us,” Rollo stated. “There is a group of humans that have paced around the apartments. They know we’re here.” “We can’t keep moving away when you smell trouble,” Astor argued as he stood up. “I want to stay here.” Jory shook her head and left the apartment. Astor and Rollo were always fighting about staying or going. It always ends the same. One or the other gets angry and retreats back into their room. So much for going back to rest for the night. She walked around until she heard the sound of bones clacking together. She turned around to see a young man walking up to her. “Seems like a bad night to walk around by yo’self, miss,” the man hissed. “Fuck off, Talus,” Jory muttered. “Oh, why be so angry with old Talus?” he asked. “It just so happens that I know a place where some Vamypr is getting made.” He held out a skeletal hand that was stained brown from dirt. “That is, if I was given the right price.” Jory dug into her pocket and retrieved a small sum of twenties. She tossed it over and sighed. “Don’t fuck around with me, Talus. If this isn’t real, I’m going to break you into tiny pieces and bury them so far you won’t be able to get out of the ground.” Talus’ bones clacked together as if he was nervous. “Do not worry, young miss. Young Talus can show you the way.” The young Werewolf and the Skelton left Jory’s apartment complex and headed deep into the city; where the real Supernaturals came out at night.

Logged

It's been a hard day's nightAge is no guarantee of efficiency 3DS friend code: 4613-6707-8466

The grungy exterior of The Canvas seemed to meld with the rest of the city. It was as normal as they came, almost as if it had melded with Saint City long ago and endured the hardships of time with it. Indeed the tattoo shop had been around for decades. It had known many artists, but only one had stayed for the long-run.

Mackenzie Monroe sat behind the front desk of The Canvas, counting the money in the cash register. He often wondered why he even used such a thing; in all of his years the money he earned from doing his work had been placed in hand. But he had to keep up with the modern world lest he be left in its dust.

The interior of The Canvas was a sharp contrast to the exterior. If one knew any better, they would have believed to have traveled back in time to an early point in America, possibly during the 1800s or prior. Alongside pictures of tattoos were elegant paintings. There were several light fixtures, all intricate in detail and filled with soft, swirling patterns. The wallpaper also had these patterns, and the furniture was of a Victorian design. The hard surfaces were of mahogany, while the two couches at one end of the main room were of a dark brown fabric. Despite the elegance of the place, there was still an air of grunge; chipped paint, cracks here and there, warn posters of 80s goth bands. It was definitely a piece of Saint City. A large, oriental clock sat above the entrance, its strange hands letting Max know that it was growing late.

After sorting the money, he stashed it away in the back. Then he put on his black leather jacket and grabbed his keys. He wasn't one for going out all of the time, but when one does not eat...they grow weary.

Exiting the building, he locked up and hopped onto his motorcycle. He sat there for a minute, wondering if he should go to the usual place or a more...unsavoury...location. The usual place would have to do. Word had spread and being a Vampire feeding tonight would not look good for him in the long-run. He started the engine, revved, and sped off into the night.

Claire got up from her chair behind the counter and put down the book she was reading, it was time to close up shop for the night. She walked over to the front door, locked it, and flipped the sign around to say “CLOSED”. She then set the barrier around the store from passive to alarm, so it would wake her if anyone tried to break in. There hadn't been any break-ins yet, but you could never be too careful, especially when dealing with powerful magical items and Supernaturals. She ambled back behind the counter and shut off the lights with a snap of her fingers as she opened the door to the back room.

This room was less ornate then the main room, but still had an air of mysteriousness. In the center of the room was a Gothic couch and a few similarly styled chairs on a black circular rug. The walls were white, but lit by black-lights set in wall sconces, and appeared purple in places. Claire headed to the fridge at the back of the room and pulled on the door handle. There was still some leftover pizza, so she took out a couple slices and popped them in the microwave. She usually had food delivered or ate leftovers, pizza was a typical choice because it was cheap and would last a while, she needed money for components of spells, after all.

Claire snagged a can of soda out of the fridge and pushed the door shut. She put it down on a small table in front of the couch, took off her cloak, folded it up neatly, and put on a t-shirt and jeans. The microwave beeped, signaling that the food was ready. She took the pizza, sat down on the couch and began to eat. It had been an average day as far as business went, no Supernaturals showed up, but they had been showing up more and more recently. It might just be that word was spreading, but it could also mean something interesting was happening. Claire giggled.

Max breathed in deeply and let out a heavy breath. He exited the hospital, stashing three bags of blood into his jacket pocket. They would be empty soon, so there was no need to keep them refrigerated. He got onto his motorcycle again and sped away.

He stopped in his usual spot, an area uninhabited by most people, save for a homeless person here or there. His form nearly blurred as he ducked quickly into the shadows. He frantically grabbed for the packets; the smell was so strong and he had almost lost control of the motorcycle because of it. He opened his mouth wide and his fangs jutted out, dripping with saliva. Max punctured the bag and began drinking. When finished with that, he tossed it aside and moved onto the others.

Max stared up at the night sky. To be reduced to a weakling feeding on blood in an alley...it was sickening. But it could not be helped.

"Back again, Blood Man?" A voice from deeper in the alley, near a trashcan.

Charles Gonzales sat on the end of his bed with his hands clasped in front of him. The voice in his head constantly told him what it was outside, and what he should do out there.

It's night time... Shouldn't we get something to eat?

"I... guess... Getting hungry, I'm sure..." He murmured.

Could murder a-

"Shut up!" Charles shouted, "not yet... Maybe... Perhaps..."

The eatery down the street, the diner farther on down, the-

Hissing through his teeth, he got up and staggered, leaning on the wall for balance.

"Glasses?"

On the table.

Walking slowly to the table, continuously grasping the wall for balance, he placed his hand firmly on the table and stood up straight. Brushing the hair from his eyes, he took the sunglasses and put them on. Walking to his closet, he became lost in thought; What will we eat?Whatever is available.Which is?Whatever is available.

"Whatever is available..." He murmured.

Moving to his closet, he stopped midway and looked down, spotting his black and gray poncho. Tipping his head to the side, he stared at it for a moment and picked it up, dusting it off in the process. Looking it over, he walked back to the table and draped it over the chair. His mouth twitching into a smile, he turned around and walked again to the closet. Reaching in, he laid his hand on the black coat and hesitated.

Take the coat.But...Take the coat.Not the poncho?Either one will do. Coat or poncho.Alright......

"Coat..." Charles said quietly as he took the coat from the hangar and closed the closet door. Putting on the coat, he searched the pockets and found a set of keys, assorted coins and a crumpled $10 bill. Nodding his head, he opened the door to the apartment and walked out. Lock the door.

"Almost forgot..."

Locking the door, he headed outside and started to walk down the street to the diner.

Archibald Cornweather sat behind the desk in his small office. In front of him was a collection of reports he had "come across" during a recent excursion when he was tracking down a vampire for menial grievances from some of its neighbors. The reports were for a new drug called Vampyr that was making a home within the city. Archie looked away from the reports and brought his bony hands to where his temple whould have been, had he had any flesh left on his head and slowly rubbed them.

"Just great," he sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Rouge wolves last week, shape shifter crime spree the week before that, skeleton gang war the week before that. And now this," he sighed again and looked back at the reports. Figures and notes strewn throughout the pages of paper. Distribution routes, income, names of distributors (probably aliases), the whole thing. The only thing missing was an indication of where the source of it all was.

Archie stood and walked over to a file cabinet that sat in one of the corners. He opened one of the drawers and flipped through some of the folders before selecting one simply labeled "Witch". "Now, where is the closest one?" He had a map in the folder, showing the location of the witches and warlocks that he had found over the past while. The closest one to his office simply had the name "Claire" written above a circle. He looked out his window and saw that night had fallen on the city. "Well, might as well go and pay this Claire person a visit," he said as he wrapped a scarf about his neck and lower half of head, placed a wig on his head along with a hat, donned a large set of tinted glasses, placed a pair of black gloves on his skeletal hands, and put on his jacket. Then, after attaching the clip that set his gun belt from falling off his skeletal body and stuffing the reports into an inside pocket in his jacket, he left his office and plunged into the night.

A short while later he found himself standing in front of a small inconspicuous shop. He checked his map again, and satisfied that he had found the right place, he knocked on the front door.

Jory sniffed the air as they headed deeper into the city. She could smell the blood being spilled everywhere. She could smell the Vampires, the Liches, the Warlocks, everyone. Talus clacked next to her as he waved to various people. All of them Supernatural beings. Jory could feel herself tense. She didn't mind working in the inner city, but she always had an ally that she could trust. Like Astor or Gerry for example. Jory could feel her breathing get more rapid as if something was closing in on her. She checked her holster and made sure her gun was still there. Then she checked her jacket pocket and felt her knife; at least she was prepared for what Talus is preparing her for.

"If you're going to trap me, Talus, I'm going to kill you," Jory muttered to the Skeleton as they turned into an alleyway. "Again." "No worries, young wolf," Talus hissed. "I am only showing you where it is. Then you can get your mortal friends to come down here and take care of business." Jory stopped in the middle of the alleyway. "I don't believe you Talus. You're planning something and I don't like it." Talus didn't say anything as she heard people jump around her from the rooftops; vampires, she smelled. She growled at Talus. She made a rookie mistake in believing him. "Talus!"

"Talus is just a mere lackey," a calm voice replied. Out from the shadows came out Michael, one of the oldest vampires alive in Saint City. Jory had only seen him a mere few times and he never addressed her or her pack before. "I have some business with you. Come." "And if I refuse?" she demanded. "Then my men will kill you with all the silver bullets in their guns," Michael stated. Jory growled and complied to the vampire before she nodded. "Very good. Come wolf, we must discuss the inner sanctum of this city." A vampire opened the door for Michael and the group walked inside the building with Jory feeling uneasy and wondering if her packmates were going to come after her.

Logged

It's been a hard day's nightAge is no guarantee of efficiency 3DS friend code: 4613-6707-8466

Shelton made his way across the rooftops of the city. The moon was waxing, and soon there was sure to be young werewolves rampaging through the city unsure of what they were, having lost their humanity in their confusion of transformation. He was following up on some info that may or may not be useful. All he had been told was of money changing hands from Vampire to Skeleton. Usually the Vamps had no use for the bloodless beings, but this could prove fruitful. Especially since he had been told the word Werewolf was mentioned. He wasn't particularly worried, since he knew his own kind could withstand almost any situation. However, he still didn't like the prospect of any of his brethren being betrayed. He could smell his pack following various routes parallel to his, and sent them messages via scent and images. "Inner city is full of Them. Be wary, do not attack alone."

Of course, by "Them" he meant the other Supernaturals. He let out a growl, and increased his speed, leaping gaps between buildings. All of a sudden he hit a veritable wall of scent. It was a mingling of many Vampires, a Skellie, and what he had almost not expected, a lone Wolf. "By the moon, I hope we weren't too late." He decided to avoid the bloodsuckers for now, and warned his pack to look for the Skeleton, whose scent had moved East. By way of flips, and rebounds, he made his way to street level, and readied himself to transform on an instant's notice. Soon after, his path converged with Hyena. The other Beta male had a smile on his face, and gestured for him to follow. After a few seconds, they spied a long-coated figure rounding a corner. Mud was on a side street able to intercept if need be. Wind just chuckled, thinking of a small plan. His black Chucks slapped the pavement, and he rounded the corner, while waving Hyena back.

"Excuse me! Sir!" He called out to the Skeleton, whose scent was definitely from the buildings earlier. "I'm new to the city, and seem to have forgot the way back to my hotel. Could you possibly lend me a hand?" He was almost withing arm's reach of his prey.

Max was leaning against a light pole, a lit cigarette hanging from his lips. His hands were in his pockets and he stared forward at the building across the street. He knew something was happening there, and knew that it wasn't good. Yes, this must be where it was happening. He smelled others of his kind, many of them in fact. There was a sprinkling of other Supernaturals as well.

"Hmph." Max said, pulling the cigarette from his mouth and scoffing. "Michael." He and the lot of them were so arrogant, so out of touch with reality. They had lost their humanity. This was why he hadn't meddled in their affairs; their business was their own and he would have none of it. However, he couldn't keep himself away from the scene entirely. If someone needed aid, then...

He shook his head and began walking to his motorcycle. No, even helping whatever victims would soil his hands. Pausing, he dropped the cigarette and crushed it beneath a boot. Then he looked up, smelling a wolf. He listened carefully and soon heard Michael's voice among others. Max's breath quieted--he had learned to still his breathing to nearly nothing from his past as a hunter. He slipped back into the shadow of an overhang and watched other werewolves round the corner and head into the alley after the others.

After finishing her pizza, Claire turned on the TV to a local news station. There had been a lot of crimes they couldn't explain lately, which Claire knew meant Supernaturals were most likely involved. She had also heard talk of a new drug on the streets changing people in to vampires. She would sometimes have Supernaturals in the police force visit, and would trade information with them, instead of selling it, if there was something she wanted to know. This way she could stay "in the know" even though she rarely left her store. Th-

Claire's attention snapped to the entrance of the store, someone was approaching... it was a supernatural. She readied an offensive spell, just in case. It was too early for the envelope to be picked up. After a few moments, they knocked on the door. Claire figured if they were trying to break in, they wouldn't have knocked. She dispelled the magic, but kept her guard up.

"Can't you read? The store's closed!" Claire yelled as she peered through the peephole.

The face of the creature standing there was almost completely obscured by a scarf and thick pair of glasses, even though it wasn't very cold out. They were also wearing a fedora and trench coat, like a detective you would see in cheesy old movies. Of course, they may have been around in the time those movies were made. Plus, Claire was used to all kinds of eccentricities in her customer base.

Finishing up his work in his office, Thomas Kelvin smiled to himself and swiveled his chair so he looked out the ceiling to floor window. Watching the night approach always brought a smile to his face, knowing that the sub-species would be going home and out of the way, if only for a little bit. His smile faltered as he realized it would only be a reprieve from their presence. After making sure the encryption is still active and taking other precautions to his work, he logged off his computer and rose from his chair.

Embezzlement, fraud... Whatever they call it... It's the work of the just, taking from others what belongs to you; by right, by superiority.

After checking his bag to make sure everything is there, he locked the door and headed to the elevator. Pushing the button for the third basement garage level, he heard a voice shout for him to keep the door open. Pressing the close button, he watched the human run to the closing doors, smiling right before they shut.

Feeble humans...

The elevator stopped three times, once for the lobby. Not saying hello or goodbye to those who entered the elevator, he simply waited for his stop. Getting off, he headed to his car and got in, placing the bag in the passenger seat. Starting the car, he drove out of the building and started his trip back to his condo.

Archie stood outside the door after he had knocked. A moment later he heard a voice call from behind the door.

"Can't you read? The store's closed!" the voice said which he figured out was Claire. He then saw the sign by the door that said closed and cursed himself silently for not noticing it earlier. He probably had interrupted Claire while she was doing something.

"Well, what do you want?" Claire said again.

"Oh right," Archie said once he found his voice again. "My name is detective Archibald Cornweather. I know that you are a witch Claire. And being such, you are privy to information that would normally be hard to get for someone like me." He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. "I need your help. I have documents reporting the drug vampyr. They have everything in them but a source for the drug. Have you heard anything?"

Jory followed them through the building. She noticed that Talus wasn't with them, but being a lackey, she knew that Michael wouldn't care. They passed by many rooms in which various vampires sucked the blood out of their new kin to create the drug that plagued the city. Jory growled and found herself in Michael's study. He sat down in front of a large oak desk and smiled to show his large canines. He brushed his long brown hair behind his shoulder before he sat back in his chair. Jory stood in front of him before one of his guards shoved her down into a seat. She sat back and crossed her arms.

"What the hell do you want, Michael?" she finally asked. "I need your police mortals to stop hunting for the Vampyr drug," he stated as he tented his fingers. "It's bad business you know. You know humans will never understand about our world." "I'm afraid that I can't do that," Jory replied. "I am the law and I have to obey by it. I cannot bypass it because of our race." Michael grins before he frowns. "The problem is that those mortals are beginning to meddle in places that they cannot. If you cannot control your mortal officers, then we will by force." "You will not touch the mortal officers," Jory stood up and growled. Michael's guards readied their weapons, but Michael signaled them to back away. "And I will come back here and stop this.""I don't think you will," Michael stated. "What makes you so sure?" Jory demanded as she could feel her eyes change colour. She was ready to transform and kill everyone in the room. Michael tossed a folder onto the desk. "Sometimes the past creeps up on us, young wolf."

Jory stared at the folder. On the tab had her name and she stared at Michael confused. "What the hell is this?" Michael pretended to stare at his fingernails before he said: "You had quite a rebellious stage back in the early nineteenth century, didn't you? Killing anyone that would come near you during the full moon." "That is none of your concern!" "To your mortals it is," Michael replied. "I happen to be very good friends with your Chief Inspector. So, should your group start snooping around this little farm here again, they will be killed and the ten o'clock news will have your face posted everywhere for the entire city to see. Wouldn't it be nice for you to be the one that tells the world that Werewolves exist?" Jory huffed and calmed herself down. "Fine." Michael nodded. "Very good. We'll be seeing each other again, young wolf. You now work for me." "I didn't agree to that!" "If you want your secret safe, you now work for me," Michael answered and tossed Jory a cellphone. "I will only contact you with that. Should you lose it, well....sucks to be you." Jory pocketed the phone. "Anything else?" Michael smiled. "I'll call you."

Logged

It's been a hard day's nightAge is no guarantee of efficiency 3DS friend code: 4613-6707-8466

The interior of the clocktower was dark, save for the broken stream of moonlight flowing through the illuminated clock face on the west side of the room. A dark silhouette stood within the rays of moonlight, arms outstretched as it stared through the clock face.

"...for the Lord...dwelleth in Zion.” The voice was deep and raspy with a strong Irish accent.

There was a small whimper from deeper in the room. The silhouette's arms lowered and it turned, its trench coat swirling as it did so. Some light struck a cross necklace. The man sucked air through his teeth, giving the impression of a snake or reptile.

"Do you know...the difference...between you and I?" He asked to the darkened room.

There was silence.

"Do I need to repeat myself?" The man began to advance upon his target.

Another whimper.

Then, suddenly: "DO YOU KNOW...THE DIFFERENCE..." The man lifted someone into the air and threw them into the luminance. "...BETWEEN YOU AND I?" It was a young girl, tied and gagged. She slid to a halt on the hardwood floor. Her face was bruised and bloodied and her hair was a mess.

The girl gave another whimper, tears rolling down her face.

"The gag...sir." A voice from the darkness of the room. There was a sudden gunshot, a groan, and the falling of a body.

"Oh, why...Silly me." The man came into the moonlight again--he was tall with auburn hair pulled back into a long braid, with thick mutton-chops; he wore round, horn-rimmed glasses; his eyes were blue, harsh, and narrowed; and his face was covered in all manners of scars. There was another reptilian inhalation from the him. He bent down and tore the gag from the girl's mouth. "Care to answer my question?"

The girl was quiet again. And then: "Y-you're a bad man...You're all bad men..."

"But that is where you are wrong, my child. If we walk in the light, as he is in the light," he grabbed the girl, who let out a yelp and a sob, by the neck and lifted her into the air, facing her towards the brightness of the window, "we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus Christ, his Son, cleanses us from all sin. Amen."

"Amen." The word came from many; there were dozens of them, in fact, all emerging from the darkness of the room.

"The difference between you and I, little one, is that when you look at the night sky you see a home amongst the shadows. The one similarity we share...is that when we see the night sky, we both see the art of the hunt." He tossed the girl back into the darkness.

There was a moment of silence, and then: "Pennington."

A man walked into the moonlight and fell to one knee, head lowered. The moonlight glinted off a large blade upon his back. "Yes, Lord McGregor."

"Bring her back with us. We mustn't kill her now, for she holds valuable information. Be gone, I must think." He turned towards the light of the clock face again. "Praise be to Red Justice."

"Praise!" The room filled with the word and there was a single stomp of numerous feet, resembling soldiers standing at attention. The whimpering from the girl retreated out of the room.

After a short pause, the figure said, "Oh right, my name is detective Archibald Cornweather. I know that you are a witch Claire. And being such, you are privy to information that would normally be hard to get for someone like me."

Another pause. Man, this guy sure likes to state the obvious, Claire thought to herself.

"I need your help. I have documents reporting the drug vampyr. They have everything in them but a source for the drug. Have you heard anything?"